The Key To Me
by Zucht
Summary: A sequel to The Key To Home. Clark's POV


**A/N: **This is a sequel to _The Key To Home_

**The Key To Me**

The wind was picking up as Clark hover outside of the room where Lois lay. He had to smile, as she had chosen one of his old flannel shirts to wear. She would never admit to liking the fabric, but most of his shirts ended up with her no matter where he hid them.

As the temperature continued to drop, he just hovered there keeping watch. The night grew darker and colder, and still he didn't move. He thought about the first time he had encountered her. The brash young woman was courageous as she blundered into almost getting herself killed in the effort to find her cousin…

He had to leave to land a 727 that was in trouble.

When he returned, he resumed his post hovering and watching Lois. A smile threatened to cross his contemplative face as he thought about when she had conned him into allowing her to stay at the farm for the first time. He missed those times when they were first getting to know each other. He did smile at the memory of the first time he walked in on her in the shower… and she would walk in on him. The occurrences were rare, but he always wondered why his parents never put a lock on the door?

Remembering those days, he couldn't help but to think of his parents. Jonathan loved his family, but had always liked the spark of life, of insanity, that she always seemed to bring into their lives; enjoying the almost sibling comradely/rivalry that they had been unable to give him. And his mother treated her like a daughter, perhaps knowing before anybody that Lois' strength, and love of life, would be what he needed.

In some ways he missed those days, fighting over the most obscure things like fashion and long showers. Come to think of it, that's what their last argument had been about…

A fire at a homeless center drew him away next. The fire took no time to put out, but getting the owners of a building to take in the displaced residents proved to be a whole different kind of battle.

When he returned to his post, it was colder – he didn't notice. As he watched her, he fingered an octagon that he held in his hand, tracing the symbols etched along the edge of one side. He stopped when he reached the symbol for the House of El, and just stared at it.

The sun was just starting to add some color to the morning sky when he left to upright an overturned cattle truck. It took little time to herd the surviving bovine into a quickly made pen.

The sun was just starting over the horizon when he returned to watch Lois. As frost formed on the windows, he didn't notice it forming on his cape; neither was as cold as one of her stares. It was with relief that he remembered she mostly glared at him. Her glares reminded him of swimming in a solar flare, only slightly more fearsome.

Every time he thought of her the image in his mind was of one of their first encounters, back when her hair was auburn. She stood tall with her hands on her hips, looking at him with mischief in her eyes, and a smile gracing her beautiful face. He had just complied to one of her demands, and she was thanking him. Well, she never really thanked him; it was always a 'Way to go, Farm Boy!', 'Nice job, Smallville!', 'It's about time, Smallville!', 'What took you?', or just a smile punctuated with a jab or a slap on the arm.

When they started working together at _The Daily Planet_, his senses were on overload from listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the city all day. That didn't stop him from noticing her, the beautiful nineteen year old he had first encountered had turned into a stunning woman in her mid twenties. Half Aphrodite and half Minotaur, she was all woman and twice the reporter of anybody else in the city. As a reporter she challenged him and dared him to excel; as a woman, the challenge was much, much, harder… to live up to her standards.

She confused him, she had a high maintenance personality, but because she had grown up moving around as an army brat, she was actually fairly low maintenance. She hated shopping, but would shop for hours in order to get the right item at the best price. She could make the cheapest knock-off look like high fashion by just adding the right accessory. She would give massive amounts of her clothing to the charity and turn around to gripe to him that she had nothing to wear. It often seemed that she lived on coffee and pizza, but worked out religiously. She would berate a colleague for a minor sin against her; however, she was the first on the scene when said employee was injured or in need.

Somewhere in all the confusion and contradiction, that was Lois Lane, he realized that he loved her. The realization had hit him hard. How many times had they been accused of being a couple? He didn't even think that Lois had even noticed that he had quit denying it. But he was in love, way past smitten; he was totally helplessly, deeply in love.

That was what made this morning so difficult.

--

The processional moved along at a moderate speed, traveling from Metropolis to Smallville. The public service for one of the cities greatest champions had been long with orations from too many politicians, too many civic leaders, and too many publishing giants. Few people had both affected and effected a city in quite the way this hero had. Serving the city for eighty years had led to many friends, and even more enemies.

Overhead, clad in black, flew what the world knew as the House of El. The patriarch with his familiar red cape was accompanied by his cousin. Behind flew his four children, her five, their twenty-seven children and their own progeny.

As she was laid to rest between her mother-in-law and the false grave of her husband, a red cape was laid across her coffin, and its owner flew away quietly.

For the next three hundred years he said nothing to any reporter, until his last interview which consisted of one word – "Goodbye."

**XxxxxxxxxxxxX**

**The End**


End file.
